


First Choice

by RaeDMagdon



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fingering, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Soft sex, comforting sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 22:58:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11300598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeDMagdon/pseuds/RaeDMagdon
Summary: Ryder feels like she can't live up to her father's legacy, but she's always Vetra's first choice.





	First Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me @raedmagdon on tumblr for more. This was prompted there.
> 
> The art is by the incredibly talented @swamp-jello and you should follow them too.

It’s one of those days. One of those days when Ryder feels like nothing she does is enough.

She’s spent most of it on the Nexus, taking care of a seemingly endless stream of problems, but the reactions she gets are always the same: gratitude mixed with a healthy dose of surprise. “I was worried when I saw you,” they all say. “You’re so… young.” (The word they are looking for is inexperienced.) “But you’re shaping up to be a pretty good Pathfinder.” (The ‘like your father would have been’ is implied, if not stated outright.)

Ryder tries to see the positive in it. She’s getting out there, making a difference, helping one person at a time no matter how trivial their issue is. But always, whether she’s activating a brand new vault or helping some random guy scan corrupted terminals, there is a shadow waiting beyond the glow of success.

She is not her father. Even with all she’s accomplished, she is still not Alec Ryder. She can tell that some people, Tann and Addison included, think he would have done a better job. He would have figured out the vaults faster, negotiated peace with the Angara more smoothly, been able to save both Drack’s krogan scouts and Raeka…

Some part of her knows it isn’t necessarily true, but they believe it, and the weight of that belief weighs on her in turn.

What if she can’t do this, really? What if she’s the reason the Andromeda Initiative will end? What if the Archon kills her, the way he wouldn’t have been able to kill her father, and everyone dies because Alec Ryder the hero made the stupid choice to save his daughter instead?

Ryder tries not to let her anxiety spiral that far, but she’s getting very little sleep these days. It’s hard to keep her thoughts in check. She’s lost in a fog, having to ask the same questions repeatedly, mumbling “I’m sorry, what do you need?” more often.

‘What do you need.’

That’s become the catchphrase of her new life.

What everyone around her needs is Alec Ryder. What she needs is a goddamn rest.

***

The doors to Ryder’s cabin open with a whoosh as Vetra steps inside. She has free access to the Pathfinder’s quarters now—one of the privileges of fucking the Pathfinder herself, and one she loves to take advantage of. (Secretly, she has a soft spot for luxury, since it was so rarely afforded to her growing up.)

Everything is quiet. The terminals are off. The hum of the Tempest’s engines is faint, fading into the background. Even the hamster is asleep instead of running on its squeaky wheel. Said wheel had been a difficult prize to find, but the furry little thing seems to enjoy it, and for Ryder—for Ryder, Vetra will do anything and pay any price.

But where is Ryder, exactly?

Vetra’s mandibles twitch as she looks around the room. At first she doesn’t see her lover at all, but then she notices a tiny ball beneath the covers. Since Ryder has a habit of leaving the sheets in a heap around the pillows—(“I sweat at night,” she claims)—Vetra hadn’t noticed the body underneath.

“Ryder?” she calls, approaching the bed.

Ryder doesn’t answer.

When Vetra draws closer, she realizes why. Ryder is asleep. Her breathing is quiet and deep, but the portion of her forehead that Vetra can see is still tense and wrinkled with worry lines. It doesn’t look like a very good sleep at all.

Her fears are confirmed a moment later. The bundle of blankets starts twitching, and more of Ryder’s face appears. Her eyes dart behind their thin lids, one of the traits humans and turians apparently share. Vetra had been pleased to learn that humans dream like her people do. (“Do you ever dream of me?” she had asked when she found out. Ryder’s smirk and a deep kiss had been her answer.)

At the time, Vetra hadn’t thought about the obvious fact that the ability to dream also meant Ryder could have nightmares, but that too had become clear in short order. She seems to be having one now, far from an uncommon occurrence. Her legs kick out, twisting the sheets further, and her hands grasp at nothing. She only mumbles one word, but Vetra’s translator catches it: “Dad…”

Vetra can’t watch this anymore. Her protective instincts take over. She sits on the bed beside Ryder’s shuddering form and reaches toward her, stroking a talon along her tense arm. “Ryder? Ryder, wake up. You’re just dreaming.”

Ryder doesn’t startle awake. She opens her eyes, but her gaze is still blurry and confused, as if she doesn’t know where she is. Vetra can see when realization hits her, though, because she exhales and a look of relief crosses her face. “Vetra. Hi. Sorry, I was asleep.”

“I know. You were dreaming.” Vetra stretches out on the bed beside Ryder, her feet nearly dangling off the end. “You want to talk, or just cuddle?”

“Cuddle,” Ryder says, but she sounds a little uncertain.

Vetra folds an arm under her shoulder and coaxes Ryder to rest against her chestplates. Ryder does, snuggling as close to her side as possible, flinging an arm over her stomach and grasping the narrow tuck of her waist.

They stay like that awhile, with Ryder lying silently in her embrace. Vetra runs her claws up and down Ryder’s bicep, tracing the same line over and over again. Sometimes, she presses kisses against Ryder’s hair. It’s fluffier than other human hair she’s seen, with a noticeable spring to the tight black curls. She had touched Cora’s hair once for comparison—something Cora had allowed with a smirk of wry amusement—but though it had been soft, it hadn’t been the same.

Vetra continues stroking Ryder’s arm and kissing her head, not so unlike she’d done for Sid when they’d been children. It’s flattering to be someone’s protector, someone’s source of comfort, especially Ryder’s. It makes her feel important, not because Ryder is a Pathfinder, but because… Because she thinks Ryder is the most special being in two galaxies, and of all the beings in both those galaxies, Ryder has picked her. No one has ever picked her before.

“I dreamed about my Dad dying again,” Ryder says, drawing Vetra from her own thoughts.

Vetra already knows that. She knows what Ryder dreams about before she wakes in these cold sweats, looking lost and guilty. Ryder has never said it, even though she usually has no problem sharing personal details about her life, but it’s simply an unspoken fact between them.

“You must miss him,” Vetra murmurs. She had missed her own father a great deal after his disappearance. Still does.

“It’s not just that,” Ryder says. “I have you. I have Scott. I have the crew. Sure, I miss Dad, and I wish he was here. But he died for something he believed in. It wouldn’t be so bad except…” She takes a deep breath that sounds more labored than it should. “Except it should have been me.”

“What do you mean?”

Just the mention of Ryder dying makes Vetra’s heart freeze. Ryder has already died once, right in front of her very eyes, and even though SAM had revived her shortly afterward, Vetra does not want a repeat of that experience. That was when her feelings of love had cemented. Watching Ryder die had been like what she imagined seeing Sid die would be like. (And she has imagined it. Every guardian has.)

“I was the one with the cracked helmet. He gave me his.”

Vetra has heard the story before, but the emotion in Ryder’s voice almost physically hurts. She gives Ryder a little more time, still stroking her arm, preening gently at her hair until she’s ready to talk again.

“He was the one the galaxy needed, Vetra,” Ryder said, gazing up at her with swimming brown eyes. Usually, they hold the stars in them as far as Vetra was concerned, but now, they’re full of tears. “He would have known how to handle all of this. The Archon, the Roekkar, the outlaws… hell, even the krogan would have respected him.”

Vetra starts to say that the krogan very much respect Ryder too, but she knows now isn’t the time. Ryder needs to lance this wound first or risk being poisoned by it.

“But instead, all Andromeda gets is me. Me. I wasn’t even supposed to be Pathfinder! I’m an archaeologist who can maybe hit a target on a good day. That’s the beginning and end of my qualifications. Andromeda…” She blinks, a few tears rolling down her cheeks. “Andromeda deserves better than me. It deserves him. It needs him. But I’m all it’s got, and all I do is fail.”

Ryder goes silent again, and Vetra struggles for words. What can she say? She certainly doesn’t think Ryder is a failure, but she doubts Ryder will believe those words, even coming from her. She’s seeking approval from an impossible source—from the entire galaxy, who will never universally approve of someone, or perhaps from her dead father. If Ryder keeps looking in that direction, she will never find what she’s searching for.

“Ryder?”

With a soft noise that nearly breaks Vetra’s heart to hear it, Ryder responds. “Yeah?”

“I’m glad it was you who lived and not him.”

“You’re a little biased,” Ryder says. A hundred emotions at once flick across her face, so fast Vetra can barely decipher them. It’s hard enough for her to read human facial expressions at regular speed.

“Don’t you want to know why?”

Ryder sniffs, wiping away the wet trails on her cheeks even as more tears fall. “O—okay,” she stammers, choking around a sob in her chest.

“Because I can’t imagine a person who’s more full of love than you are. Even your father.”

Ryder responds with a cracked laugh. “That sounds like a line from a bad turian soap opera.”

“Maybe.” Vetra tucks one claw beneath Ryder’s chin, locking eyes with her. “But it’s true. You have more love in you than anyone else I’ve met. You fight for me and your brother and our friends every day, even when you’re so tired you can barely stand. You risk your life over and over again for people you don’t even know. You love people you’ve never met before in your life. Shit, you even get along with Tann.”

In what might be a good sign, Ryder’s tears slow down. Her sobs become quieter. She stops sniffing quite so much. “I hate him,” she mumbles, but she’s started smiling.

“Yes, I know you do. I remember you telling him how few fucks you had left to give for his opinion. But you’re so selfless you’d risk your life to protect his useless ass.”

“I’m on borrowed time anyway,” Ryder says. “And it’s my job.”

“Varren shit. The point is, your love is what we all need right now, even more than some perfect Pathfinder supersoldier. You bring love and hope to every person you touch. Every dumb, pointless errand you do sends a message: I care about you, and you matter. If everyone you’ve helped takes that message and starts passing it on, it’s a ripple effect. This galaxy might actually turn into a place where people are proud to live.”

Vetra knows she’s cracking through the carapace when Ryder offers her a weak smile. “I never knew you were such an optimist.”

“Yeah, well, I keep it close to my chest. Don’t tell Brodie. He’ll take me for more credits than he already does.”

“Vetra?”

“Hmm?”

“I care about you. You matter.”

Vetra releases a long, deep sigh. “I wish I’d met you after my father left. No one but you has told me that since he disappeared.”

“What about Sid?”

“She’s my kid sister. Her loving me and depending on me wasn’t a choice.” Vetra moistens her dry mouth with her tongue. “For you, it is. You chose me.” Her own eyes start to sting, and Vetra blinks rapidly. “I needed someone to choose me. I needed you. I need you, and you’re here. Do you have any idea how grateful I am for that?”

“You won’t be so grateful if the galaxy goes tits up and the Kett take over because I’m not the hero my Dad was,” Ryder mumbles, but Vetra can sense a shift in her. She’s filing the words away, tucking them into her brain, hopefully to revisit when her doubts return.

“It won’t. I’ll help. We’ll all help. Because we all love you, Ryder. Especially me.”

When Ryder’s head tilts towards hers, Vetra takes the invitation. Her beak meets Ryder’s plush lips, and both of them melt. The heat between them doesn’t flash the way Vetra is used to. Instead, it’s a warm glow that grows and grows until she’s tingling from crest to spurs.

“Show me,” Ryder mutters against her mandibles. “Vetra…”

Ryder doesn’t need to ask twice. Gently, Vetra rolls her over, sliding into the cradle of her thighs. Ryder is so warm, so vulnerable and yielding beneath her. She’s got impressive muscle tone, and those same admirable muscles tense and flex as Vetra runs her hands along Ryder’s sides, but over that is a layer of incredible softness that still leaves Vetra in awe, even though they’ve been lovers for some time now. It continues to amaze her that she can press her talons into Ryder’s dark brown skin and actually see the imprints where her flesh gives.

It’s that flesh Vetra is hungry for, but even more, she longs to prove her words. She wants Ryder to know how loved she is, how treasured she deserves to be. “I want to touch you,” she croons, nibbling at Ryder’s ear. Her sharpened teeth click against the stud in the middle. “May I?”

“You are touching me.” Ryder’s voice is no longer wrapped around the tight ball of tears that had been stuck in her throat. It’s quiet, but hopeful, on its way to a cautious happiness.

“You know what I mean.”

Ryder gazes up at her. “I do.”

(She’s not just talking about making love.)

Vetra begins slowly. With careful nips of her beak and gentle scratches of her talons, she seeks out every sensitive spot on Ryder’s body. She sucks at the pounding hollow near the base of Ryder’s throat, rasping her tongue over it. She kisses Ryder’s shoulders until they tense and shudder. She bites the curve of Ryder’s breast until her heavy breathing becomes a whine. Only then does she take Ryder’s nipple into her mouth and suck.

That unique facet of human anatomy is especially fun to play with—and Vetra has learned that, sometimes, Ryder can come just from having them plucked at. She rolls her tongue around the stiff, straining buds, switching back and forth between them until Ryder clutches her crest, trying to push her further down.

“Please.”

“Be patient.”

(She wants to give Ryder everything, just as Ryder has given her everything.)

As she kisses her way down Ryder’s stomach, Vetra lavishes attention everywhere, especially over Ryder’s numerous streaky, pockmarked bullet scars. She kisses each one, saying a silent prayer to the Spirits, thanking ancestors she’s never given more than two shits about for keeping Ryder alive and whole for her. Perhaps it’s selfish, but Ryder has become her crutch, just as much as she has become Ryder’s. Ryder fills a void within her that Vetra hadn’t even known she was carrying, used to the emptiness and loneliness as she was.

Was. That’s in the past. Now that she’s felt this way, she can’t take it back. She doesn’t want to take it back. And if Ryder can make everyone else feel one ounce of the happiness and hope Vetra feels whenever Ryder so much as looks at her, she knows there is hope among these strange, beautiful stars after all.

Ryder spreads her legs and Vetra ducks beneath her calves. The treasure between Ryder’s soft, rounded thighs entrances her, and she simply has to take a moment to stare. Ryder’s puffy outer lips are the same rich brown color as her skin, tinged with just a hint of red almost like her flushed cheeks, but the inner ones are even darker, black and shiny and inviting.

Salt rises in Vetra’s mouth, but it isn’t the salt she wants. She wants Ryder, only Ryder. She bends down, following one of the sticky trails up along Ryder’s thigh until she arrives at her lover’s sensitive slit. The taste has taken some getting used to—she’s liked it from the start, but it’s very different than her own, most definitely alien. Now, it’s familiar enough so as to be comforting.

The moans that float up toward the ceiling are equally familiar, and very much welcome. They’re a little muffled at first, as if Ryder is trying to swallow them down, but she stops fighting it when Vetra begins swirling her tongue, searching out the sensitive spots she has learned by heart.

Sometimes, she actually feels as if she is holding Ryder’s heart in her mouth when she does this. Ryder’s flesh, here more than anywhere else on her body, is thin and throbbing and vulnerable. (Vetra often wonders how exposed humans must feel, with no plates to protect their softest parts.)

Ryder caresses the back of Vetra’s neck, running her short nails between the bumps there. Vetra doesn’t need the extra encouragement, but she doubles her efforts. Though she still doesn’t suck the stiff bud of Ryder’s clit, she wanders closer, occasionally letting the upper part of her beak nudge against it.

When Ryder starts to shiver, seemingly close to the edge despite the care Vetra has taken to keep her far away from it, she changes strategy. She nuzzles deeper, thrusting her short tongue as far as it will go into Ryder’s entrance, only to withdraw and leave Ryder’s hips to chase her mouth.

“Vetra,” Ryder sobs, and not for the first time, Vetra is reminded that there is no sweeter sound than her lover crying out her name. “Vetra… Vetra, please… please…”

Vetra can’t possibly ignore that plea. She goes back in for another pass, but not before muttering, “I love you.”

It’s a process she repeats again and again. Lick, mutter something, then scatter a few kisses over Ryder’s open thighs.

Lick. “You’re beautiful.” Kiss. “You make me feel whole.” Lick. “You fill something inside me…” Kiss. “Something no one else can touch.”

The words aren’t meant to be sexual. They’re pure loving praise, praise Ryder soaks up like a flower opening to the sun. Ryder’s lips part for her in the same way, a little more with each murmur of adoration, growing slicker and hotter against Vetra’s tongue.

“You’re selfless.” Kiss. “And brave.” Lick. “And so, so kind.” Kiss. “You’re so much more than just someone’s daughter. You’re your own hero.” She pulls back, gazing up into Ryder’s eyes. “You’re my hero, Sara.”

When Ryder flounders, unsure how to reply, Vetra takes her chance. While Ryder’s walls are down, Vetra draws in her clit, gliding her tongue over it at last.

Apparently, that’s what Ryder’s body needs. She goes stiff and groans, a noise of such broken relief that Vetra knows her words have sunk in somewhere. (Hopefully, they’ve sunk deep enough that nothing can dislodge them.)

Vetra continues suckling Ryder through the shivers that follow, enjoying the rhythmic slips of heat that spill out over her mandibles and the restless shifting of Ryder’s hips. Ryder is so lovely when she comes, her curls splayed on the pillow like stormclouds, her eyes two glowing black suns. The bow of her body is beautiful in a way Vetra can’t even describe, strength and softness both on prominent display, showing everything Ryder is—everything Vetra loves about her.

When Ryder wails one more word—“Inside!”—Vetra obliges. She slides a careful talon into Ryder’s body, feeling a familiar swell of amazement as her lover’s silky muscles clutch and cling at her. The spot where Ryder is most sensitive is easy to find. It’s not too different from where Vetra’s own clit remains tucked up inside her, protected by her walls. Even though Ryder’s clit is on the outside, trapped within the heat of her mouth, Vetra knows exactly what to do with this spot. She curls against it, careful not to scratch too hard.

The flow of heat against Vetra chin grows stronger, running into her palm as well. Each hook of her claw draws more of it out, and Ryder’s clit throbs against her tongue, twitching in the same rhythm. Her hips freeze, and a powerful ripple runs through her, starting in her core and expanding outward like the birth of a star.

(This, Vetra thinks, is meant to be. The two of them. This moment. She doesn’t believe in fate or destiny, but she can’t deny the feeling of rightness. It’s beyond her own understanding.)

Vetra sucks and thrusts and curls until Ryder is completely spent. It doesn’t take long. Ryder falls limp, her shudders fading to aftershocks. Her eyes drift shut, and her head tilts sideways on the pillow, as if she doesn’t even have the strength to lift her head. Her hand, though, continues tracing patterns on the nape of Vetra’s neck.

It only takes a gentle tug from Ryder to bring Vetra back up along her body. She takes Ryder in her arms again, only this time, Ryder doesn’t feel so heavy. She’s still floating in post-orgasmic bliss, but it’s more than that as well. Some of the weight has been lifted off her, and Vetra silently congratulates herself on a job well done. It’s the least she can do, with all Ryder has done for her, with everything Ryder always does for her.

“You really meant that,” Ryder says. “When you said I was your hero.”

Vetra pauses her instinctive preening of Ryder’s hair. “Corny, but true.”

A big smile spreads across Ryder’s face, perhaps the first genuine one Vetra has seen on her so far this evening. “Maybe sometimes I’ll fail at being Andromeda’s hero—”

“You won’t,” Vetra insists, but Ryder shushes her with a finger to her beak.

“Let me finish. Maybe sometimes I’ll fail at being Andromeda’s hero. But you know what? I’ll never fail at being yours. I can promise you that. I’ll be your hero or die trying.”

“Please,” Vetra rasps, “don’t.”

“I don’t plan on it. I’m just saying—”

“I’m serious. Don’t die. I need you too much. You’re irreplaceable to me, Ryder.”

Ryder kisses her, gentle and slow. “I know. And maybe that means… it’s okay. That I’m the one here. You know?”

“Yeah. I know.”

Ryder laughs softly. “I was just thinking… it’s nice to be somebody’s first choice, at least.”

Vetra goes back to grooming around Ryder’s ears. “We think alike,” she coos into the nearest one.

“Do we? What am I thinking about right now?”

Vetra pretends to consider it. “You’re thinking… you want to return the favor and use your mouth on me. It’s all you can think about. You’re overwhelmed with the desire to thrust your tongue deep inside—”

“How did you know?” Ryder chuckles. She rolls on top, trailing a path of kisses down from the carapace split in the middle of Vetra’s flat chestplates.

“Lucky guess,” Vetra says, threading her talons through Ryder’s hair.

Lucky. She’s never considered herself lucky before. The opposite, in fact. But since meeting Ryder, she can’t think of anyone luckier.


End file.
